Live By The Blade, Burn By The Flame
by Riel Champion
Summary: Gabriel Queen has been apart from the Bat Clan for nearly a year. He has prospered under the instruction of Slade Wilson, a.k.a Deathstroke. Armed with his new gifts of advanced swordsmanship and pyromancy, he has more than made up for his missing eye. Read on to see if he will choose the path of the mercenary, or if his heroic blood will decide otherwise.
1. Rise To Power

Rise To Power

"Are you ready, Gabriel?" Slade asks me, raising his blade.

We stand in the center on a white chalk circle on the middle of his incredibly spacious training area. We had set up shop in a warehouse in the Narrows. I had started my schooling in the sword nearly a year ago. Slade was my master, and had taught me to compensate for my blind spot; My missing right eye.

I raise my plain, low carbon steel training sword, touching the flat of my blade to his. We stand for a split second, eyes locked, swords crossed. Then, he strikes. A slash meant to land at my mid chest, one that I easily parry. I counter, taking a swipe at his sword arm, but my strike wasn't heavy enough to cut through his kevlar armor. He extends his free hand, projecting a blast of flame in my direction. I dodge, doing a backward roll and resetting. We wait, tense.

Pyromancy was another little trick we'd been working on. He had learned it after a defeat by the Teen Titans, and the apparent death of his apprentice, Tara. His body had been reduced to a charred skeleton, causing him to hide himself in his armor constantly. His stints in the Lazarus Bath had healed his appearance, but the ability remained. An ability he was initially hesitant to teach me.

He rushes me again, stabbing at my abdomen rapidly. I parry each strike, retaliating with my own blast of flame. The blue-green jet left my hand in a blaze, quickly enveloping his armored form. He dives out of the inferno, his armor protecting him from the brunt of the heat. He takes another swipe, this one so powerful it knocks my sword from my grip. I leap out of the way of his next barrage, recovering my sword mid roll, standing to face him. He circles me.

"You've improved vastly from when you came to me, Gabriel." He says, no doubt smiling under his mask. "But you're no master yet." He tells me as he rushes me once more, his stroke breaking the blade of my sword and knocking me aside.

"Damn!" I shout, as I hit the ground hard, the hilt of my useless weapon spinning away from me. "Worthless thing!" I yell at it, frustrated with the weak steel.

"Now, now." Slade says as he strides up to my prone form. "The sword is unimportant, the improvement in your swordsmanship is." He says elegantly.

` "Then I need a sword that can keep up with me!" I shout, climbing to my feet. "These low carbon blades keep snapping on me." I say, a little more calmly.

"Agreed." Slade says. "Which is why we're going on a little trip." He says, smiling under his mask again.

I quirk an eyebrow, but I know better than to ask. Slade was a cryptic old bastard when he wanted to be, and I'd find out soon enough.

Slade turns away, walking toward his laptop at the other end of the warehouse. He sheaths his sword, and sits down in front of the monitor. _He's probably preparing for our "trip." _

I walk to my corner of the warehouse, preparing to meditate. I get down on my knees, and begin to breathe. In, out. In, out. In, out. A circle of green flames surround me, rising and falling with my breaths. I'm at peace, and this peace last for many hours. The night passes without my notice, and I drift back into consciousness the following evening.

A duffel bag lands loudly in front of me. "Pack." Slade says. "Lightly, but heavy enough to last a while in the jungle." He instructs.

"Where?" I ask simply.

"We're going to where your Grandfather and I met." He says. "Lian Yu."


	2. Lian Yu

Lian Yu

I stand on the bow of our boat, a small fishing vessel known as "The Lucky Cricket." As our destination comes into view, I allow a small smile to cross my lips. This place, desolate and remote though it was, was a part of my family history. _The island that forges men into weapons, _I think.

"Where are we going to find a proper blade in a place like this, Slade?" I ask my master, turning to face him. He stands behind me in a relaxed but disciplined stance. "It's completely uninhabited." I tell him.

"You'll see soon enough, my boy." He says, walking up to the bow to stand next to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and says, "You'll see."

We disembark an hour later, and watch the boat sail back out to a safe distance. The sand is wet and soft beneath my feet, and I like the feel. I restate my question.

"Where are we going to find a sword?" I ask Slade. He turns to me, beckoning me with a finger, then taking off at a quickening pace into the jungle. I curse.

I say no more, popping up the large collar on my brown leather jacket and running after him. Our run takes us miles into the forest, though we never slow down. Slade knew what he was doing, and I have faith in him. He stops.

"Are we there?" I ask between breaths as I come up next to him.

"Nearly." He replies, looking at me with his good eye. "Now, we go down." He says. He points to a large hole in the ground, on that I would've missed in my haste. It was angled down in such a way that you could walk down. Slade steps down into it, walking down into the underground depths. After a moment's hesitation, I follow.

The incline is steep, and our progress is slow. As we progress, the tunnel evens out, and turns from dirt to rock. After what seems like an eternity, I see a light at the end of the tunnel. Slade stops.

"You will continue on alone." He tells me. "I wish you luck."

"What can I expect ahead?" I ask him, hoping for advice.

"Nothing pleasant." He answers cryptically. "Keep your wits about you, and remember your training." He tells me. "You're my apprentice, remember that."

I nod, then turn toward the light. I wait a split second, then begin to walk. As I get closer to the light, I look back. Slade is gone. _Typical. _

I continue to walk, finally reaching the opening. What I see, I can barely believe. "No way…" I breathe.

A small earthen path runs down the center of a monstrous lake of magma. A figure stands in the middle or the path, fully garbed in the attire of a chinese warlord. The steel studded leather armor and gargantuan chinese war sword match the age of the skeletal figure they adorned. It's ominous, to say the least.

I take no more than three steps down the path when, suddenly, the figure raises it's blade into a fighting position. I freeze. _It's alive?!_

The warrior rushes me, bringing it's blade down in an overhead arc. I leap back, the blade embedding itself in the space where I'd been seconds before. The skeletal warrior raises it's blade again, ready to strike. I stand back, contemplating the warrior in front of me. It's strengths and weaknesses unfold before my mind's eye. My pyromancy would do no good, and I'm nearly unarmed, but for a six inch knife in my jacket. But the sword is slow, as is it's wielder. I draw the knife.

The warrior takes the opening and swipes at me in a left-right motion. I duck, slashing it's abdominal armor open. Surprisingly, sand began pouring out as a result. The warrior recoiled, obviously in pain. It rushed again, thrusting with it's sword. I sway to the side, rolling back and throwing my knife.

The warrior stumbles back, half of it's skeletal face missing, sand spilling out rapidly from both it's abdomen and it's face. I sprint at it, connecting to the remaining side of it's face with my left elbow. The skeleton warrior's weakened form collapses on the impact, falling into the magma. It's skeletal hand stretches out from the molten rock, soon disappearing under the surface. The guardian has fallen.

I retrieve my knife from the ground, and continue down the earthen path. I reach another rock wall, with an opening at the end of the path. I start to run, wanting to reach my objective as quickly as possible. I reach the opening.

"Whoah…" I breathe as the room on the other side enters my view. The room was of Chinese architecture, ancient yet in perfect condition. My gaze gravitates to the center of the room. An anvil, old and weathered, takes up the room's center. I walk to it, interested by the strange relic. Upon closer inspection, I see a silver colored ingot and hammer next to it on the stone floor.

"You seek a weapon?" A voice calls to me, ancient and wise.

I look around, startled. I draw my knife, dropping into my fighting stance.

"Fear me not, mortal." The voice reassures me. "I am your ally."

"Show yourself!" I shout, not relaxing a bit, blade at the ready.

"Silence!" The voice shouts, causing me to flinch. "Do you seek a weapon, or do you not?" It asks again.

I hesitate.

"Answer!" The voice demands, the sound shaking the room.

"I do." I say solemnly. "Do you offer me one?" I ask the voice, looking around for the source, sheathing my knife.

"I do." The voice replies. "A weapon that reflects your soul."

"I would be most grateful for such a weapon." I say to the voice. "What do you ask in return?" I ask suspiciously.

"You have already defeated the Gatekeeper." The voice says. "You have earned your reward." It tells me. "You seek a bow?" Asks the voice. "Like your Grandfather once did?"

I shake my head.

"Then what?" Asks the voice. "What shall I forge for you?"

"A sword." I say simply.

"A sword to reflect your soul…" The voice muses. "Very well." It agrees.

The hammer raises from the floor, as does the ingot. The ingot sets down on the anvil, and the hammer strikes it. Once. Only once. The ingot is enveloped in light, and as soon as it comes, it dissipates.

"Your weapon is complete." The voice tells me. "Farewell, young warrior."

Silence.

A sword rests on the anvil, sheath and all. The sheath and handle are an unreflective brown, no doubt covered with leather. The sheath is attached to a brown leather belt, no doubt to sling across my back. I walk toward it. As I draw the sword, I realize it has no crossguard. It's double edged blade sings as I draw it smoothly from the sheath. The blade is flawless, and the balance divine.

A perfect weapon.

I waste no time, belting the sword across my back, and beginning my journey out. I reach the earthen path within an hour, and I can't believe what I'm seeing.

The Gatekeeper. He stands in the center of the path, looking right at me, all the damage he took in our fight repaired. Then comes the odd part; He bows, then retreats back into the magma. The path is clear.

The rest of my journey out is a blur, as is my walk back to the shore. As I reack our landing point on the beach, I see Slade standing there. "You succeeded." He says. "Not that I doubted you." He adds.

"Mission complete." I say with a smile, patting the thick brown belt across my chest. "Safe to say this blade can keep up with me." I tell him.

"I have one more gift for you, my apprentice." He says to me, holding out a cloth wrapped bundle. "For you." He says.

I accept the bundle, unwrapping it carefully. I look at Slade. "Thank you." I say.

He makes a dismissive gesture, as though it's no big deal. "Try it on." He says.

I do as he says. It's a mask, in the same style as his own, armored and missing the right eyehole. The left half is silver, and the right a flat dark brown.

"You look menacing." Slade says. "Where to next?" He asks me. "Time to strike out on your own, forge your own destiny." He tells me.

I think a moment. "Gotham." I say. "I owe an old friend an explanation." I tell Slade, knowing he'd understand.

He sighs, looking away from me. "This is a bad idea."

Those were the last words he shared with me before we re-boarded the ship.

_Terry, Max, here I come. _


	3. Bitter Reunions

Bitter Reunions

The plane, having landed an hour ago, was no doubt long gone. My only way out would be on the ground, which made things a bit of an issue. But I was ready. Slade had convinced me to stay on for another eight months, train more, and finally grow into a man. But then, there was no stopping me.

I was balancing his newly acquired bulk easily on the edge of a gargoyle. I was five-foot-nine and weighed in at about one-hundred-eighty-five pounds. _Just like Slade, _I thought. He was nearly his master's palate swap. I smiled at the thought. I would have to share it with his master, when next we met.

My mask was deflecting the light rain that was coming down, though it soaked My heavy leather jacket. The kevlar underneath was dry, although heavy in it's own right. My grey skinny jeans were armored, as were my boots. I am, for all intents and purposes, a tank. I leap.

I grab the edge of a lower building with ease, pulling myself up with one arm, and running across the top, leaping to the top of another building, and another, and my run through the city's skyline continues for nearly an hour. The I hear it.

Him.

He lands in front of me, his boots cutting off at about a foot from the rooftop, He lands, his position defensive. "Who are you?! He demands, used to having the element of fear on his side. _If only I feared you, McGinnis, _I think.

I reach over my right shoulder, drawing my sword. The perfect blade is my constant companion, and her balance and sharpness never fade. I point it at the bat. "Batman." I greet him. "I've been waiting for you." I tell him.

"Well, here I am." He says in typical hero fashion. "What are you, some Deathstroke copycat?" He asks, looking to rile me up.

"Close." I say with a chuckle, lowering my blade. "But, you'll just have to see if I measure up, eh?" And with that, I rush him, blade back for a backhand slash.

My strike misses his face by less than an inch, and he effectively stumbles. An overhead stroke grazes his back, drawing blood through his armor. A kick to his ribs sends him across the rooftop, nearly sliding him off the edge.

"Does it hurt, McGinnis?" I asked, letting his identity roll off my tongue.

He struggles to his feet, eyes wide. "How do you know me?" He asks.

I twirl my blade, lost in the pleasure of having hurt him so badly. "I'm your better, Bats." I tell him. "I'm the man who's potential you've forever limited, but thanks to you, it's also unlimited." I say, speaking in riddles to keep him off balance.

I rush again, this time with a thrust. He blocks, deflecting it off his arm, and so I take the opportunity to head-butt him. My mask easily breaks his nose beneath his mask, despite all the circuitry acting as a cushion.

I raise my sword, savoring the moment. "My name is Gabriel Queen." I tell Terry, hearing him gasp, his mind in a whirlwind, no doubt. "And I'm here to repay you for the gaping hole in the right side of my head." My sword arm pulses in suspense. And then the unthinkable happens. Something knocks my sword from my grip. I turn to look.

An arrow. It easily pierced my kevlar, though not far into my flesh. I pull it out, tossing it to the side, looking around for my shooter. I don't need to look far.

On the other side of the rooftop, I see her. Dressed in my old suit, holding my old bow. Upholding the Arrow's tradition in my absence. She wears a green visor, but I know her anywhere.

Max.

"You never should have come here!" I shout at her, suddenly in a rage. "This is between me, and him." I yell, pointing at Terry's beaten, prone form.

"You're destroying him!" She shouts back. "His crimes are nothing compared to yours, Queen." She says to me. "You accepted the Mira-Kuru, you accepted Slade as your master, and you accepted becoming a monster." She says, more evenly. "You died the day you lost your eye." She says, almost a whisper.

I roar, rushing her. She goes for another arrow, but I'm too fast. I break her bow with a thai kick, and then go for her neck. I clasp my left hand around her neck, picking her up over the edge of the building. With my right, I rip the quiver from her, tossing it over the edge. "You're next." I say, fury burning in my remaining eye.

She gurgles, unable to speak. Terry struggles to his feet behind me.

"Gabriel!" He shouts. "Don't do this!" He yells, his voice frantic.

"She didn't have to die, McGinnis." I say, loud enough for him to hear, but not a shout. "This is your fault, and we'll both have to live with it for the rest of our days."

I release.

And she falls.

No grappling hook to save her, no bow to try to slow her descent. And even as Terry screams for her, and something inside me dies, I smile. I laugh, looking back at McGinnis, his near broken form struggling toward the edge, ignoring me.

"Max!" He screams, his hopeless tone music to my ears.

"She's gone, McGinnis." I tell him. "And it serves you both right."

He rises, looking at me. Then, he roars, taking one last swing at me. I block it easily, grabbing his neck and tossing him across the rooftop. He lands with a thud, and I hear his powerless sobs. "You'll be seeing me again, McGinnis." I say.

And with that, I leapt from the rooftop, retreated to my hideout, and let myself in through the skylight of the old Queen Consolidated building. I remove my mask, donning my eyepatch. Then I see it. A figure.

"Explain yourself." I demand in a calm tone, my hand going to my sword.

She turns. "I owe you no explanation." She says.

"Would it have been too much to ask for you to have just died?" I ask, a smile playing on my lips. "Max, Max, Max." I say, like a scolding headmaster.

"I caught the balcony below me." She says. "And I haven't come to fight."

"Oh?" I ask, an eyebrow raised. "Then what?"

"I came to talk." She tells me, a sad look on her face, her hood down.

I think for a moment. I grab a chair, putting it in the center of the room, then sitting. "Then, we talk." I say.


End file.
